I'll wait a lifetime for you
by youhavepoisonedme
Summary: When you're 600 years old, you have encountered more than your share of heartbreak. But nothing can tear you up like the potential loss of a soul mate. Arkarians thoughts and emotions while Isabel is in the middle realm. Please R & R!
1. She is not mine to love

Ethan is Isabel's soul mate. Ethan is Isabel's soul mate. Ethan is Isabel's soul mate. No matter how many times I said it to myself, I couldn't accept it. The words crushed and collided with each other violently in my head. Not making sense. Sounding wrong, at least in my mind.

Perhaps what Isabel felt for Ethan was just a child's crush. That's it, nothing more. I knew this way of comforting me was just going to get me hurt later, but for now, it was all I could hold onto. I knew she thought about me, how could I not? I felt awful for prying into her thoughts like that. But the simple fact was I couldn't help myself.

She thought about my muscular arms, and how calm and mysterious I was, perhaps it was just infatuation. She seemed in awe of me. Most people are, even if I don't want them to be. Isabel was one of the few I didn't mind.

Apparently she also liked my violet eyes, the way she thought they could see into her soul, and instantly made her forget everything. I smiled at the memory of the dreamlike thoughts and allow myself a deep breath to clear my head. I get to my feet and almost fall back in my chair again from the wave of grief and dizziness that hits me, I walk to the bathroom, rubbing my forehead with my sweaty palms and lightly tugging my tangled blue hair.

I remembered I hadn't brushed it this morning. It hadn't crossed my mind. Frankly when the one girl you have ever truly been in love with dies, and you best friend, your apprentice, and person you trust completely, takes it upon themselves that he and her were always meant to be together, and that he was always meant to save her.

Save her from death itself.

Something only soul mates could do for each other. Somehow brushing your abnormal blue hair doesn't seem important. Especially when the one person you brushed it for, to make yourself look presentable, wasn't there to see it. And may never be again.

When I reach the sink I immediately cup my hands under the ice cold water and splash it over my face, it settles in droplets on my cheekbones, and starts trickling down my neck. I lean heavily on the bench top and look in the small bench top mirror. I nearly let out a sob when I see what's staring back at me. A man, with vivid blue hair and dulled violet eyes, and slight stubble beginning to form on his chin and cheeks. Under his eyes are huge dark circles, and his eyes are moist and streaked with red.

I grab the mirror in my fist and squeeze, letting out all my anger, frustration and hurt. Hating it for showing me how alien I must look, to everyone. How could any normal girl love me when I looked like this? Quite obviously, they couldn't. And never would. The mirror shatters, and a million small pieces of glass fly around me. My shameful face reflected in every one, and my blood sparkling on their every jagged surface.

I turn away, oblivious to the incredible pain in my hand. I could've hit myself. I was being selfish. So selfish. I should be watching Ethan, giving him help, advice. That was all I could do now. And besides, the physical pain I felt from the glass still embedded in my flesh, would be nothing compared to the pain I would feel at losing Isabel. I couldn't lose her. Even if she was not mine to lose, I refused to let myself fall into the trap of referring to her as a possession.

I squeeze my fist tighter as a punishment for my already aching body. It was nothing the healers could not fix.

I walk swiftly back to the main room of my chambers, and walk round and round my equipment until my scrambled mind remembers which one was monitoring Ethan. I stare at the screen. What I see does not make me feel any better. I see Ethan running, running as fast as he can towards an almost translucent figure, which I recognise instantly as Isabel. She is almost half a kilometre away from him, climbing a sheer cliff easily; she seems to almost be floating. My eyes snap back to Ethan. What the hell is he doing now? It doesn't take long before I am able to answer my own question. He's cowering from something.

Oh, for goodness sake.


	2. Memories and Revelations

**This is quite a bit longer than the previous chapter; I had more time to work on it. This is my first fic, so please review! Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Should I continue? Or if you have any ideas please tell me! :) **

"IT'S NOT REAL! I yell at the machine and thump it with my good fist. "HURRY UP. YOU'RE WASTING TIME! Ethan continues to dodge and weave around something. His eyes never leaving a particular space of air. In my peripheral vision, I see Isabel scrambling over the top of the cliff. Ethan notices too, and appears to run around whatever the illusion shows him, and continues to sprint in the direction Isabel went. But he has a long way to go, and I can see fatigue setting in, drops of sweat glisten on his forehead, he wasted a lot of energy on fighting an imaginary fear.

Now I'm getting worried. No, I was worried before; now I'm frantic. What if Ethan can't catch her? What if Isabel can't hear him? There were simply too many questions, so many things that could go wrong. I can't take it anymore. With every metre Isabel gained on him, the ice cold hand around my heart increases its pressure. I am beginning to have trouble breathing. I have to do something.

I make the decision in a split second.

I use my wings to materialise behind Ethan. He hears my feet crunch on the dry mud on the ground, or perhaps he felt my presence, I've always believed his sixth sense to be an unfathomable asset. His head snaps round, he's probably expecting another imaginary fear. I hold my breath and my limbs go ridged.

It is so dark; he can only see my faint shape. I cannot let him recognise me. If he does, it would undermine his confidence. He would sit back and wait for me to take charge, I've known this boy since he was three years old, and I know how his mind works. I can't let him notice me if I want Isabel to live. I will only step in if there is no other option. I searched his thoughts for any sign that he recognised my shadow. There are none. He believes me to be gangly, dead, tree, for a moment I am amused by his perception of my shape, and slightly annoyed that he thinks it's a good idea to stumble around without masking his thoughts. But my eyes narrow when I see the mist right in front of my face, swirling and taking shape.

_An image of a baby, with pastel blue hair, nestled in his mother's arms. _

No, no, no! This isn't happening, this isn't real. I assure myself as pain starts to stab at me. Don't let it win. You can't. I push the fog away, but it creeps up behind me. The darkness encircles me, and suddenly, I know nothing but the image.

_The arms that should have been holding him tightly, with love reflected in her eyes. Instead the arms were limp, her body cold. The baby was watching her closely, waiting for her to fuss over him, to love him. He reached out his tiny fist and touched her cheek, his hand came away wet. Wet from her tears of pain. _

_He looked at his fist frowning, puzzled by the new sensation. He looked at her frozen face again, and started to rub her face softly, tenderly wiping away the intruding substance. _

_Suddenly a pair of hands materialised out of nowhere. They grasped him and pulled him roughly away from her cold embrace. He screamed and kicked, fighting bravely to stay with his mother. He grabbed her shirt, and held on with all his strength, but the hands were stronger, they snatched him away, ignoring his screams of anguish and the tears running down his face, the same as his mothers. This time, he did not wipe them away._

I gasp a trembling breath. My knuckles are white from gripping my shirt, the fabric right over my heart. My entire body feels hollow, except for the burning, searing pain in my chest. It's almost as though the pieces of glass embedded in my flesh have dislodged from my palm and buried themselves into my heart. I try to move forward, but the darkness comes back, and another memory takes its place. I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can, throwing my head back in a silent scream.

_A twisted image of a young boy, no more than 5 with sky blue hair, dressed in shreds of clothing with holes in the knee. _

I fight the image with all my remaining strength, but I can't draw enough power and the vision overtakes my senses.

_He was sun burnt, with scratches and bruises all over his skinny body and muscular arms. He was carrying hay for the livestock, a load far too heavy for him. The sun beat down on his fragile body, blistering it, abusing it. He stumbled and fell the weight of the hay squashing him; he let out a cry as he tried to scramble out from under it. He couldn't move, he was pinned to the ground. _

_A tall man with cruel eyes heard him and marched over, he pulled the boy abruptly off the ground. Then pushed him forward hard, shouting obscenities that the boy did not understand. The force of the man's push causes a small little stuffed horse to fall from the boy's pocket. Concern flashes across his face, as he bends down to grasp it. The man pulls him up again and hits him hard across the face, the boy screams from the pain of the beating to his sunburnt face. But he did not cry. Just reached again for the horse, his only friend in the world, made from fabric scraps he had found in the waste basket. Sewn roughly together using a needle and thread given to him by a kind tailer, then stuffed with dry grass. The man's temper snapped, he grabbed the boy by the throat and held him in the air. The boy struggled and twisted, trying desperately to escape the crushing hold. The pressure increased with every attempt of escape he made. But still he did not cry. The man sniggered._

"_Now your pitiful face matches your hair colour, weakling. You are useless to me; I should just kill you now. But the mistress paid money for you, and it would mean punishment. Though nothing would please me more than to get rid of you." He snarled in the child's bruised face. The boy stopped struggling and looked back at him defiantly. The man's eyes narrowed dangerously and his lip curled up in a snarl. He would've expected this boy to be at least begging for mercy at this point. The boy continues to watch him as his eyes flash from dull blue to violet. Taking his masters astonishment to his advantage, he kicked the man as hard as he could in his well-fed stomach. His master gagged and doubled over. But he didn't let go of the boy. _

_Recovering his breath, he looked at the small boy furiously and pulled a knife from his belt. He held it to the slave boy's scrawny neck, drawing a thin trickle of blood, staining his shirt. A bell sounded. The man looked sharply towards the house; then glanced at the child internally debating whether or not he would let the boy live. After a few painful seconds, he decided that dinner was more important than killing the defenceless boy. He threw the child hard at the ground, gave him a spirited kick in the ribs, then turned away, and walked swiftly back to the house for his meal. The boy lay on the hard, dry ground. His blue hair covering his face, his arm was broken from the impact of hitting the ground so hard, blood was pooling under him. _

_Although the pain was overwhelming, but he would not give up the only thing he truly owned. He forced his blood streaked face to look up and slowly dragged himself to the place where his horse lay on its side in a pile of dust. He wiped the dirt from its fabric, held it to his face and wept._

A shout roused me from my demonic memories and visions.

"ISABEL!"

I was unable to concentrate on one thought for more than a split second; my mind was in a haze. I looked around aimlessly until my eyes focused again.

I searched the terrain for the maker of the sound. Then up above me, I saw Ethan standing about 2 metres from Isabel. Begging her to come back. He got more panicked with every shout; the distress was obvious on his face he was slowly realising that Isabel could definitely hear him now. She just wasn't responding. But that didn't make sense. If she wasn't responding to his call then that could only mean-

_He was not her soul mate._

The thought echoed around my head, drumming on the sides of my skull. I smiled. A selfish act to display the smugness I was feeling.

But then I realised, and the smile fell from my face.

If he was not her soul mate, then she could not be saved, she would die, and I would never see her again.

That was it, she would die. I would die.

_Get yourself together idiot ._I mumbled to myself through gritted teeth. Then, using my wings I appeared right behind Ethan. He was still trying to make her hear him, pleading with her. He was too desperate to worry about me; he hadn't even noticed I was there. Isabel continued to walk towards the bridge. Ethan's voice started to break.

"Isabel, Isabel, please, please, hear me. Listen to me, Isabel. You can hear me, I know it. Please, please."

He was repeating himself, over and over again. I am about to break down again, I'm breathing so heavily, It's hard to believe Ethan hadn't heard me light years ago.

How much more torment could Isabel's soul endure? I couldn't live without Isabel. If her life ended, mine would too. But I had responsibilities to the guard, I couldn't just leave. Perhaps they would understand. Perhaps they would despise me. But if I stayed I would despise myself and my life, everything I had once loved. It took me a mere second for all of this to run through my mind.

I looked up. I saw Ethan still begging, almost crying now. Then I saw Isabel, and my breath hitched in my throat. But then suddenly as I watched her, calm washed over me, soothing the pain in my chest, my head, my entire body. I knew what would make Isabel come back; I knew exactly what to do.

"Isabel." The single word got caught in my throat, I couldn't get it out. The calm drained away, I panicked. What if she didn't come back? Then my heart would rip apart beyond repair, I knew it, it was dangerously close now. I pushed the thoughts aside, plenty of time to dwell on that later. But now, now I had to try.

"Isabel." I said in a hoarse whisper. Hardly anything, But it was a noise. Ethan spun around instantly, shock etched into every feature on his face, but I wasn't watching him. I was watching Isabel. She hesitated, and my heart leaped. My confidence surged.

"Isabel, turn around, and come home."

She stopped completely, then slowly, so slowly, she turned around.


	3. Unecessery Forgiveness

**Ok, this has changed a tiny bit from the book, but some of the dialogue is the same. Thank you for reading guys! And PLEASE review!**

She was out cold, but she was breathing, she was alive. I hold her in my arms, and I have never been so happy. Ethan watches me, smiling. I search his mind thoroughly for any envy or sadness. There is none.

I smile at him widely. And he smiles back.

"I had no idea how you felt about her, Arkarian." He said his eyes flickering from Isabel's angelic face to mine, glistening with tears of relief. With my truth seeing abilities, I could see he felt horrible, he was remembering how Isabel used to feel about him.

"It's ok Ethan, Don't worry about it." I tell him. He smiles at me gratefully, before averting his gaze to Isabel again.

"When do you think she will wake up?" he asks me anxiously.

My heart leaps with worry, but his thoughts are purely friendship concern, so I allow myself to relax.

"Anytime now." I reply, fondly stroking her forehead.

Ethan grins at me again. I ignore his teasing expression.

"I'll go and get her a glass of water for when she wakes, she'll be thirsty." I say. Gently laying her head down on a cushion Ethan hands to me.

"Call me when she wakes." I yell over my shoulder. Ethan nods.

I walk down the corridor to the kitchen and open the cupboard, row after row of boring glasses stare back at me. I close my eyes for a second, and when I look again, there is a violet crystal glass on the shelf.

Violet, Isabel's favourite colour. Happiness swells inside me. All my years of torment have lead up to this perfect happiness. As I fill up the glass with water, I hear a shout from down the corridor.

"Arkarian!" Ethan's panicked voice reached me. It echoed around me over and over in the hollow room. My head snaps back and forth as I follow the sound.

"I'm coming!" I yell back. I grip the glass and run down the corridor, still echoing with Ethan's cry. Water sloshes out of my glass and lubricates the floor, making it harder to get anywhere fast. When I reach the right room, I see Ethan kneeling next to Isabel. Her body is being racked by violent spasms. Ethan looks at me frantically.

"What's happening to her?" he shouts, as he tries to avoid being hit by Isabel's flailing fists.

"I think it's her soul returning to her body." I reply. I hope I'm right.

"But that doesn't happen when we return from a mission." He argues weakly.

An uncomfortable silence fills the chamber.

"Perhaps returning from the middle realm has different circumstances." I say.

"Perhaps." He agrees, but I don't need my truth seeing to pick up that he wouldn't take a sentence starting with "perhaps" for absolute certain truth. Which I suppose it wasn't.

The spasms stop as quickly as they had begun, and Isabel's body is still, peaceful. Her soul is safe. Ethan feels her pulse and nods at me.

"Now we wait." Ethan said.

_Thanks for the update of the blatantly obvious. _I snap at him in my head. I don't say it out loud; Ethan has enough to worry about. So I do what I always do. I push my feelings aside and go with the logical action.

"Want some whiskey?" I ask.

Ethan stares at me like I had gone mad. I massage the bridge of my nose. We stare at each other.

"16." Ethan reminds me.

"Right." I say. I hadn't realised Ethan minded about the legality. He had killed more beings than an average soldier, for heaven's sake.

I scan his thoughts and find an image of his father's reaction when he found Ethan with a beer. Ah, so that's why.

"…Want a juice?" I say, amusement colouring my voice.

Ethan gives me a death stare.

"Or not." I pretend to scratch my nose to hide my smirk.

Ethan's thoughts tell me he isn't offended, as he tries to find something to say back.

"Want some hair dye?"

I laughed at the cheap shot.

"Want a comb?" I retorted. Hmm. not my best.

"Want a decent shirt? You need it."

"Some high heels? Make you taller."

"A girlfriend?"

The smile wipes off my face. And I jerk back as I'd been slapped.

Ethan's smile also disappears.

"Arkarian, I'm so sorry. I got caught up in the argument, I wasn't thinking. If-"

I hold up my hand. "It's alright."

"Arkarian, I..." Ethan began again. I wasn't listening anymore.

_I could've had a girlfriend, I could've gotten drunk every night, I could be rich, I could have hundreds of friends._ If I wanted it. I thought bitterly.

I was being irrational. I forgave Ethan straight away.

"_It's alright Ethan."_ I repeat. "We're all under a lot of stress." I smiled at him with my eyebrows raised for a second, then my gaze drifts back to Isabel. My eyes soften instantly.

"You will have one soon though." Ethan grins at me, a mischievous glint dancing in his eye.

"Perhaps." I caution him.

"Definitely."

**Whew. Ok, another chapter up. Please tell me if I've stuffed up the past and present tense, I do it often, and it's driving me insane. Thanks! And as always, if you want the fic to continue, please review! (And **_**thankyou**_** to my reviewers, all three of you, you are amazing :D)**


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